


Not Long

by Hey_wussup9753



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 10 years later, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Betrayal, Disowned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Jealousy, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Past Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-10-17 19:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_wussup9753/pseuds/Hey_wussup9753
Summary: The pack kicked Stiles to the curb years ago.He was able to manage just fine, but now he's being sent back to his home town to reopen some long closed wounds.





	1. Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is my first ever FanFic so I would really appreciate if you could give me some tips on how to make my story more enjoyable for you. Some constructive criticism is always welcome :)  
I know I’m a couple years late to the fandom, but I enjoyed it so much I wanted to write this anyways.  
Please Enjoy

“Freeze!” Stiles felt really cool every time he got to say that, but the sweat and panting made it ten times less cool.

Road rage is one way to bring the worst out of people. And while most people might just flip the out guy off, this lady decided that becoming a werewolf was a much more appropriate reaction to a guy cutting her off. And now Stiles has to run after a werewolf on foot when he was supposed to be off duty. Well, he was on call, but no one wants to have to throw their perfectly good sandwich in the trash just because a supernatural crisis emerges on the streets of Washington. But apparently, it’s a good enough excuse. 

Anyways, the wolf on steroids keeps sprinting down the road, thankfully not injuring anyone, but still causing a huge panic. Stiles knew that he wouldn’t be able to catch up, but he was the only officer that currently had eyes on it, so he couldn’t stop.

He kept scanning the streets, looking for a building or some street to herd it into. A place where he could deal with the threat without endangering any civilians. 

As Stiles’ heart started to go into overdrive a call came over his comms “what’s the status on dog chase?” It’s from the HQ. The guys that control the werewolf protocols around the city. Y’see the FBI have actually known about the supernatural for years and while their first instinct was just to kill and experiment, they’re finally adapted to the new age, they’ve got their own wolfsbane weed farm, keep track of every supernatural creature in America and, most importantly for this situation, have sonic emitters at every street corner that can be wirelessly activated for HQ. I know, Stiles couldn’t believe it either! It makes his life 10x easier.

Stiles tapped onto his comms giving a brief report with as little puffing as possible, “Currently chasing through Harry Thompson Way Northeast. No through road coming up. Set off the emitters at intersection coming up when I say.”

“10-4, waiting on you, Stilinski”

Stiles kept pace as the werewolf moved faster down the street. 

“Now!”

A small waving sound went off from the corner, not bothering Stiles but cause the wolf in front of him to go nuts and run down the perpendicular street. Just as planned.

The creature saw the dead-end and without even a moment of hesitation, it turned straight into the construction site. This is going too well. It parkours skilfully through the hanging metal and scaffolding, but that was the difference between it and Stiles. Because while it continued to run like a mindless animal, Stiles had a plan. Stiles navigated his way down the side of the unfinished building, he reached the other side before the werewolf only giving him a few seconds. He ran to the machine holding up stacks of metal, climbed inside to find the gaping hole in his plan. He didn’t know how the hell to use this God damn thing. There were so many buttons and even more levers. Where the hell is the instruction manual? Stiles looks up for a second to see the animal emerging from the building. He looked back to the controls again in frustration. 'Screw it' he thought and without any thought process, he smashes some random buttons. Thankfully, it worked. The metal was released. The first pipe stopped the werewolf in its tracks. It turned to run backwards but another fell in front of it cutting it off again. Finally, the rest fell gracefully on top of the creature.

Stiles paused looking for the animal to run out of the smoke produced. There was silence. Then a sorrowed howl. Stiles ran down the machine and found the suspect pinned to the ground by the fallen scaffolding. The weight seemed to be too much for the injured omega as it continued to thrash around for freedom to no avail. Not to mention its broken leg which would’ve made it pretty hard for her run off pinned down or not.

Stiles walked around so the wolf could see him, “alright,” he got its attention, “you need to turn back now.”

The omega continued to bark in Stiles’ direction, acknowledging his presence but not his orders.

“look, if you don’t turn back right now, I’m going to have to call for reinforcement and if you’re not looking normal by the time they get here then they’ll drag you out of here with a collar and leash attached.” He wasn’t in the mood for being polite or whatever, “So? What’s it gonna be?”

Unsurprisingly, the aggressive approach did no calm down the raging werewolf. Instead, it began to thrash around, flailing its broken leg in the air. 

“Alright,” he sighed, “just remember you chose this.” Stile reached for his comms, “20-26, Nare is pinned down requesting back up.” White noise came from the device. Stiles tried again “I repeat, Nare is pinned down requesting back up.” Still nothing. “does anybody copy.”

Shit… looks like I’ll have to do things the old-fashioned way.

He jumped down crouched down to be slightly more level with the vicious animal. It was trying to bite or scratch the agent, but he just rolled his eyes.

“What are three things that cannot be long hidden?” Stiles said casually, as the werewolf continued to push against the scaffolding, paying little to no attention. 

“Three things cannot be long hidden?” Stile repeated, “the sun, the moon, the truth.” 

The supernatural creature didn’t seem to be responding. She was howling louder than before, Stiles could feel the tinnitus forming in his ears. He needed her to listen. 

“Listen to me, you need to fight it. This thing is a part of you now,” He shouted aggressively at the quieter creature, “if you can’t deal with it you can hurt yourself and everyone around with you. Now say the mantra before I put a silver bullet in your brain.”

The werewolf was processing Stiles’ encouraging, yet threatening, words. She had stopped trying to fight him and was slowing her breaths making them deeper and longer. “The sun,” she said, her breaths became steadier and calm, “the moon,” her claws retracted and her teeth sunk back into her gum, “the moon.”

She had turned back into her human form, it wasn’t much less intimidating than it was before. She still had sadness and anger hanging in her eyes. Stiles had expected her to look less muscly, but her biceps seemed to have grown if that was even possible. Her hair was brown, curled, short and knotted her face was smooth and untouched. She kind of looked like… Someone he used to know.

“So,” she asked, “are you going to kill me or…?”

Stiles let out an amused huff as his signature smirk spread across his face, “If I was going to kill you’d be dead already.” He always wanted to use that line.

The girl scanned him up and down in a disgusted and confused manner, she seemed to be questioning the legitimacy of the statement “sure.”

Stiles helped shift the scaffolding and the werewolf shimmied out from underneath. He helped her into a more comfortable position and made a temporary split for her leg to assist the healing process.

“Thanks,” she admitted reluctantly.

“What’s your name?”

“Emilia Lake.” She responded hesitantly, “and you are?”

“Agent Stilinski,” he said showing his badge, “FBI. supernatural unit. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lake”

“Mieczyslaw?” a questioning look appearing on her face.

“yeah,” He laughed, “people usually just call me Stiles.”

Emilia seemed to freeze up at his name. Her eyes showed recognition and shock.

“You’re Stiles?” She asked accusatively, “the Stiles?”

“Uhh, yeah?” He said, slightly confused, “Have you heard of me?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a part of the McCall Pack, or the Hale Pack, or whatever it’s called.” 

Stiles’ eyes darkened at the mention of the Pack. “I was. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“You’re legendary!” she exclaimed becoming a lot more open and laid back than before, “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you and your pack. I was heading to Beconhills before-”

“before the road rage turned you into a mythical monster with claws and extra facial hair.” Stiles completed.

“-right,” she confirmed uncomfortably and continued to fiddle with the zip of her leather jacket. “Hey, uh, do you mind if you put in a good word for me with your alpha? I really need a pack and from what I’ve heard, yours seems like a refugee came for omegas like me.”

“I would, but me and ‘the alpha’ aren’t exactly on ‘speaking terms’” He explained placing a forced smile onto his face. “I wouldn’t want my name to stuff up your resume.”

“Really?” She seemed disappointed, “what happened?”

Stiles hesitated, it wasn’t exactly a topic of conversation he enjoyed. It gave him cramps just thinking about it, but maybe it could serve as a warning to this Omega in need of a pack… Maybe. “It was a lot harder being the only human in the group filled with the supernatural. It put a lot more pressure on me to have a part, do well and be a part of them, y’know. I was constantly trying to prove myself.”

“So that was it?” She presumed, sounding shocked “you left because you were human?”

“Because I did the worse thing a human could do.”

“And what was that?”

“I made a mistake.”

“Is that why you moved away?” She questioned accusatively, “because you made a mistake? That’s a pretty soft reason if you ask me.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Stiles glared, “And I didn’t choose to move away. They kicked me out. Everyone cut me off, they didn’t tell me about meetings, they would ignore me in the hallways, pick fights with me and constantly made me feel like crap. They were my only friends and they shoved me to the curb.”

“Seriously?” She was a lot more sympathetic now, like she had a complete understanding of what Stiles was talking about. Something was telling him that she did. “Wasn’t there anyone else?”

“There was,” He admitted, sadness dripping in his voice, “My dad, but they even got him to turn on me.”

“Jeeze,” She remarked, not knowing what else to say, “That’s rough.”

“I didn’t have anyone or anywhere so I took the FBI internship that I was originally planning on refusing.”

Emilia stood there slightly dumbfounded and somewhat awkward, she was regretting having asked. “Have you talked to any of them since?”

“Nope,” Stiles admitted, “They’ve been trying to contact me recently, but it’s too little too late I guess.”  
There was silence. Emilia had finished her interrogation and the only thing left was an awkward ambiance. Stiles probably shouldn’t have that much. She was searching for a sense of belonging and what Stiles said is probably going to make her feel much worse around his ex-pack. Yeah, he definitely said too much. He seriously needed to work on that. 

Stiles helped Emilia to the street and hailed her a cab, which proved to be a challenge with the crazy guy who just got in a fight look he was sporting. Finally, he got one and helped his now fully human friend get into the back seat. 

“Stiles?” She stopped him from shutting the door.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, again”

“Don’t mention it,” Stiles responded a sincere smile nodding onto his face.

“And, I’m sorry about what happened with your pack.” She continued, “You seem like a good guy that deserved a lot better than that.”

He smirked, “Thanks.”

“I hope you’ll be able to find better people.”

“Yeah,” He responded, “I hope so too.”

Stiles closed to door and waved the cab goodbye as it drove off into the distance. He let out a long sigh of relief before swinging around to walk back to HQ. He started thinking about the amount of paperwork he’s going to have to fill out with the broken scaffolding and the whole ‘letting the perp go’ thing.  
He sighed again. Just another day in the office.


	2. Back

“No. No way in hell.” Stiles spat, crossing his arms and moving back into his chair.

“Beconhills is unknown territory for us, Stilinski. Especially with the supernatural. and your file here says you lived there for 18 years.” Director Thompson sat at her table, continuing to do other work while she addressed her fuming agent.

Thompson was a very intimidating lady; she could get a man to confess cheating on his 5th-grade exam paper with a single glance. This may be thanks to the extremely tight, high bun she wears that peels back all of her joyful features or even her towering 6’5’’ stature, but Stiles knew it was actually because she likes vegemite and black liquorice. He saw her eat it once and he couldn’t sleep for a good month. But that’s not enough to get Stiles to stop fighting her on this.

“Yeah, well, that was over a decade ago and ten years is a long time. A lot of things would have changed.” There was also the fact that he didn’t want to go, that place brought back too many memories. Sure, there are so many good ones but they were all bittered by only one memory.

“And I have been informed you first gained your experience in Beconhills,” Thompson continued, “you were also recommended by one of our top agents.”

“Recommended?” Stiles questioned; he was probably going to shoot whoever ‘recommended’ him.

“By Agent Rafe McCall.”

Stiles let out a long sigh and sunk further into his chair. Of course, Mr. McCall suggested him for this assignment, who else would it be? For whatever reason, He’s been trying to get Stiles to go back to Beconhills for almost two years now despite the fact it was his son that drove him out of there in the first place! He would try and trick him into going back, order him, once he even got on his knees and begged (Stiles assumed that he had been drinking that time). It didn’t matter what he said or did, it never worked, nothing was going to make him go back there. Except, apparently, when his job was on the line.

“You’ll be leaving tomorrow morning; agent McCall will give you the files.” Thompson waved her hand dismissively.

Stiles wasn’t going to let her win that easily, “Ma’am, isn’t there anyone else you can get to take this assignment. There are plenty of other agents who would fight tooth and nail to get a mission like this, just pass it on to one of them?”

“They all have other assignments at the moment,” Thompson’s voice flared with annoyance, “Besides you have much more experience in the area.”

“So does McCall, and he was in Beconhills much longer and been there more recently. He would be much better with this,” Stiles’ voice was starting to rise and he was trying hard not to become sarcastic; if ten years in the FBI has taught him anything it’s that sarcasm does not go well with superiors. “He has links in the police department and is trusted by residents, he is the guy you want.”

“What about your friends from high school? They are still resident and your father has remained sheriff of that department.”

“Well, I’m not exactly ‘buddy, buddy’ with any them.”

“Well,” still not even lifting her gave from her computer, “I give you full permission to take time and work out your issues. Just solve the case and we’ll call it even. Now you best get packing.” She gestured to the door, directing Stiles to get the hell out of her office. 

He didn’t need to be asked twice, he begrudgingly got out for the chair and made his way out of her office, “Good luck, Agent Stilinski.”

“Thanks.” He slammed the door behind him.

As Stiles walked down the hall, he began to think of how he can get out of this large predicament. ‘Maybe he can go into the back ally and shoot his foot?’ Stiles disregarded this thought when he remembered how much it hurt last time.

\---------

Stiles burst into McCall’s bringing a storm behind him. He really didn’t care that the older man was on the phone, he just snatched the phone from his hands and hung it up for him.

“Stilinski,” he stared, slouching back into his chair, “thanks for knocking.”

“What’s your game here McCall? Do you want me to lose my job or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” McCall lifted his hands defensively, a vengeful smirk still it’s way on his face, “You are a perfectly capable agent and I’m sure that you’ll be able to solve this case.”

“Bullshit.” Stiles spat. He broke away from McCall’s desk and paced sharply. 

“They need you, Stilinski.” He said plainly. As if that would convince him to go. 

“And I’m just supposed to go running when they call?”

“Yes”

Holy Shit, Stiles could not seriously believe what he was hearing. This asshole. despite the fact he’d been working with this guy for a decade his arrogance and all-round dickery never secede to amazing him. Stiles has never wanted to punch him more in his life.

Stiles pivoted away from Rafe and rubbed his eyes him the heels of his hands, hoping that maybe he’d wake up in the desert and this was all some hallucination because that sounds sooooooo much better than being in this dickhead’s office. 

“look,” the older man stated, “It’s time you stop hiding, take the case, make amends. They’re hurting.”

“They hurt me!” Stiles yelled. Silence fell in the room. 

Rafe was taken aback by his burst. His posture shifting uncomfortably as he reverted his eyes to the floor.

Stiles took a deep breath attempting to compose himself before continuing, “I am sick and tired of you trying to reopen wounds and I have worked for the past 10 years to close. They’re the ones who burnt that bridge and I’m not going to help just because they need me to scoop their poop. So, you can go to Thompson, tell her I’m not taking this case and you can go to Beaconhills yourself.” Stiles strode for the door as an attempt to stop this whole stupid conversation, “Have fun, make sure to send me a postcard.” 

“Stiles.” He stopped the younger agent, trying to find the right word to convince him. “They’re out of trouble. You can see them again.”

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to McCall’s desk, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

The other man let out a frustrated sigh and walked towards him with file in hand, “Just go back, Stiles.” 

He held out the files for the other man to take. Stiles only looked at it and then looked back to Rafe, his eyes pleading. What did he mean ‘out of trouble’? Stiles hung his head in defeat. Damn it; The son of a bitch piqued his curiosity. He snatched the files from his hand.

“I’ll make sure to get you some hair dye,” Stiles snarked, “your greys are starting to stand out.”

Rafe nodded, a little hurt, but mostly relieved, a smile crossing his face, “Thank you, Stiles.”

And with that, Stiles headed home and packed for the mission. And as he lay in bed he knew that he was going to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thanks so much for liking my fic, I'm so happy (and quite surprised) at how well this was received. 
> 
> I realise that the chapters are short but I'm trying to keep them that way so I can update as often as possible. They might get longer over some time, but at the moment they'll probably stay this length.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your love. I'm enjoying writing this so I hope I can continue to do so.


	3. Scene of the Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles investigates a recent attack

Stiles arrived in Beacon Hills at exactly 9:57pm, and he’d be counting the minutes until he can leave.  
It was sprinkling slightly as he drove through the town. The spits of rain adding an eerie feeling to the darkness that surrounded each house, tree and street lamp. The woods to his left looked like they could go forever. Everything looked so much bigger to Stiles and much darker. He didn’t remember the road being so uneven. His old jeep would pick up on every crack in the ground, but it wouldn’t rock nearly as much as his compact car was now. A random detail to pick up on, Stiles knew, but it was annoying. The hiss of rain landing of his windshield was already annoying enough, rocking up and down made it impossible to drive.

When Stiles was an hour out of Beacon Hills, he received a call about an attack; an ‘animal’ attack. It was near the woods, a 60 or so year old, white, male bled out from fatal claw wounds. Witness found the man dead; they called the police. Ambulance arrived on the scene to treat shock, but not the man’s wounds. He was left untouched for the FBI to investigate.

As Stiles rocked up the crime scene, quickly surveying the area. There were a few blue and red lights place around the cordoned-off field, probably to keep the three passers-by from seeing anything. It was a bit of overkill if you asked Stiles, you could probably achieve the same with a sign that said ‘warning: homeless dude ahead’ and turn on their heel and run in the other direction. That was something that Stiles noticed when he was on the street. For the first few years of his Beacon Hills detox, people used to avert their eyes as they walked by a crumpled boy on the streets, some people just straight up crossed the street to get by him. Stiles always thought that the flashing lights attracted more people than they deterred.  
The crime scene was placed right next to the woods so chances were the victim was attacked during a night jog through the woods. And since the body was found outside the woods the Vic likely got away from the wolf before running into the street for help and bleeding out onto the footpath. Of course, this was all speculation, he’ll need to have a look at the body and everything to be sure.  
Regardless, He didn’t want to spend too long there considering the 89% chance that he will 100% see someone he knew from the station. He knew that the moment he is spotted, the sheriff will find out; John inevitably would call Scott and Stiles would run out of town once again. The longer he can stay off the pack’s radar the better.

Stiles ducked under the tape to the squared-off crime scene. It was everything he had predicted. There was blood leading from the entrance of the woods right the Vic's body, lying lifeless and in a pool of blood. 

As he began to walk toward the body a local police officer walked towards him. It wasn’t someone he knew (thank god), but a guy around his age. He was pudgy, with bright blond hair and a friendly smile, hand out ready to shake the newcomer. “Hi,” he greeted, swiftly taking Stiles's hand, “you must be Agent Stilinski, I’m Corporal Carl.”

Stiles smiled lightly at the name, but he should be the last to laugh and a laughable name. “it’s nice to meet you, Carl,” Stiles replied before swiftly turning back to the body sprawled out onto the concrete, “so what have we got here?” Stiles crouched to get a closer look at the large scratched across the man’s back. They were large, much larger than Stiles had seen before.

“Guy was found crawling out of the woods, scared the guy running by half to death.”

‘called it’ Stiles silently thought. He looked across the best of the body, not much else abnormal, “Who was he?”

“Uhh, guys name was Henry Tate,” Carl recalled, “he lived in the middle of the woods. Only one living family member; his adoptive daughter—”

“Malia,” Stiles completed, looking up to the Corporal for confirmation, who gave a startled nod in return. 

Stiles cursed if there was even a chance he could’ve gotten through this whole ordeal without endangering the pack; it was gone now. 

“Have you notified her?” 

“No, but we’re tracking her down,” she replied solemnly, “she’ll need to identify the body.”

“Right,” Stiles mumbled, taking out his notepad to write some of these notes down, “anything else you got?”

“Yeah, the woman that called 911.”

“The jogger?” 

“yep.” Carl confirmed, “We tried talking to her but she was in shock. She’ll be coming down to the station another time.”

“Alright,” Stiles tucked away his notepad, “thanks for your help, Corporal.”

Carl gave a short nod before walking to greet the forensic team who just arrived on sight. 

Stiles began to walk the walk around the crime scene a bit more, keeping a keen eye out for any clues. A voice that made his blood run cold and force him to stop dead in his traps. Goosebumps ran down his spine as he slowly turned around. And there he was: Sheriff John Stilinski, looking one foot in the grave. Seriously, there’s no way it’s still legal for him to still be carrying a gun. If he let off a shot, the sound would give him a heart attack and despite the nightmares, he’s had because of that man he couldn’t help but laugh. He looked ridiculous!

“Sorry, Sheriff. You’re off the case, this is a federal investigation now,” Agent Kells forcefully informed. Her and the other agent, Connor Bradly, stood in front of the yellow and black tape holding off an angry sheriff, “We’ve got our top agents on the job.”

“Great,” he replied with a spoonful of sarcasm, “and who might that be?” hand on hips, ready to fight this ‘top agent’.

Bradly and Kells looked at each other with uncertainty, neither of them were willing to break the news.

The sheriff caught the looked at the two shared, “what is it? Is it McCall? Let me talk to him.”

The agents said nothing, they shared another look before Bradly finally spoke for them, “maybe you should go sheriff, the case is in safe hands we can assure you of that.”

“Who’s on the case, Bradly?”

“That would be me,” Stiles snuck up from behind the police tape. The Agents looked at each other once again before leaving the two men alone. 

His father stared for a moment. Stiles stared back, but in a more glaring way. A closer look revealed many more wrinkles. The little hair he had left was so grey it was almost see-through. Yet he still wore his Sheriff’s badge.

“Stiles?” He questioned; he was acting like I came back from the dead. 

“Sheriff,” the agent acknowledged coldly, “what can I do for you?”

John didn’t stop staring, “Is that you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably under the older man’s comment, “bet you’re wishing it was McCall now, right?” the agent remarked.

John didn’t react, he just kept staring.

“Well if that’s all you’re here to say then I should probably get back to my job.” Stiles turned his back on the sheriff hoping that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, it way not.

“What are you doing here?” John accessed.

“Like I said before: my job,” Stiles answered, continuing to walk away from the older man, “I’ll be gone soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Stiles, wait.”

But he didn’t. He kept walking and he didn’t dare look back. He knew that if he turned around one more time if, he even stopped to consider it. Stiles would forgive him. Because he feels like he has to. Because that’s why Rafe got him here; ‘to make amends’. And while the larger part of him wants to change his name and ride up to Seattle, there was a tiny part of him that wants to sit down and talk with his father. It wants to hear his side of the story. That he might get to move back to Beacon Hills and be with his dad. He can explain away every bad thing that any of them did and they can put Stiles back together again. But Stiles knows they can’t, so won’t let that tiny part win. He’ll forgive the old man the day that he goes back in time and fix everything when it happened 10 years ago. But until then he won’t give him the courtesy of turning around.

Stiles kept storming towards the body, despite the fact he’d already had a look around, trying his hardest to calm himself. Before he could get there, however, he was intercepted again by Carl.

“Hey,” he stopped, “Is everything alright?”

Stiles fidgeted, taking a deep breath in before replying, “Yeah, yeah,” he lied, “do you need anything.”

Carl’s look of concern towards Stiles distracted him, not answering until he registered Stiles’ impatient glare.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologised, “There’s a pack here.”

“oh, yeah,” Stiles was shocked that he knew until he remembered that whole thing with the town finding out about the supernatural ten or so years ago. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about that… “what about it?”

“They’ll probably know some information about it,” the Corporal filled in, handing him a small piece of paper with an address on it, “You might want to start there.”

Stiles glanced at the address; he knew exactly where it was. He gulped absentmindedly, before thanking Carl.

He spent the next hour at the scene before finally getting to leave. He flopped onto the motel bed and let out a great sigh of relief. He took out the address that Carl had given him and stared at it. He was an idiot for thinking he could do a supernatural case in Beacon Hills and not have to deal with the know supernaturals in the town.

He slumped back into his mattress hoping to at least get a good night's sleep before the train wreck that was to come.

Tomorrow morning he would go to see Scott McCall.


	4. Mr McCall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sees an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start with 'woah!'. I am overwhelmed by the amount of support that this fic has gotten. I was not expecting it to be so well received and I am so thankful and I'm excited to see where this go.
> 
> I would also like to say a quick sorry for taking so long on the update, I was reconfiguring some plot points and I wanted to be good.
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy.

Stiles knocked on the door that leads to so many memories. He was regretting this... again. he could’ve asked someone else to go, he could have talked to Parrish, they left of alright terms. But of course, the address that walking sunshine had to give him was that of Scott McCall,

The door slid open and the overwhelming smell of dog fur hit Stiles like a brick wall before the wooden frame came to reveal his childhood brother, Scott McCall. 

“what can I do for yo-” He didn’t seem to recognise that it was his ex-pack mate standing at the door, but Stiles had already made a mini portfolio on Scott. He had grown a beard, it was a little scruffy but it managed to cover all of his face. It looked a bit like Derek’s… He had earnt a couple of scars too, there was a small one next to his right eye and a much larger one stretching down his jawline and cutting through his beard. No doubt there were some interesting stories behind those beauties, but Stiles wasn’t that interesting.

“Stiles?” He looked star-struck. 

I guess John didn't tell him

“It’s been so long. H-how have you been?”

Stiles stood there for a moment, he was surprized edging onto confused. Was he trying to make small talk? He thought this is embarrassing. This had to be sarcasm, some way to draw him in so he could be pushed out once again. There was no way that Stiles would let that happen. Not again.

“Fine, just fine,” Stiles said in an attempt to stop Scott’s scheme.

Scott’s face was still stuck in shock. Stiles was starting to believe that Scott had gotten plastic surgery while he was away because the dude seemed incapable of moving his facial features. That was until he finally spoke again.

“What are you doing here?” His tone struck Stiles to the core, his voice sounded defensive, as if Stiles was moving up to take over his territory. 

“Here on official business, investigating the recent supernatural attacks in Becaonhills.” Stiles explained trying his hardest not to sound condescending, “I thought the resident expert on this stuff would be the best person to ask about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” the alpha said, he seemed to have finally snapped out of his trance, “do you wanna come inside, I’ve got a couple drinks in the fridge if you want to-”

“That’s alright,” the Agent cut him off, “I’m not planning on staying long.”

Scott looked uncomfortable at those words. Was he expecting him to say yes? 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he laughed nervously, “Ask away.”

“Do you know what this thing that’s been attacking Beconhills is?” Stiles asked as he took up his notebook and pen.

“Yeah, it’s a pack of wolves, but they’re not normal,” he explained, “they’ve got some kind of enhancement like they’re enchanted.”

Stiles looked at Scott with an eyebrow raised, “enchanted werewolves?” He confused at this concept. In all his years dealing with the supernatural magic hasn’t been prominent. Sure, you could count the eyes, and the resurrections, and all the other paranormal stuff as magic, but it’s not really. Magic is unconfirmed. 

“Yeah, we were just as confused as you are,” Scott began to explain, “When they arrived, we assumed that they were just a pack trying to take Beacon Hills, just like the rest. There would be multiple attacks on civilians and hunters, but they all followed a pattern.”

“A pattern?”

“Yeah, everyone that they attacked had no families or connections outside of Beacon Hills. Like these people were confined to this town.”

“Absolutely no connections?” Stiles asked, “not an ex-classmate? or a sibling?”

“Nope,” He blatantly remarked, “Not a soul.”

“hadn’t any of these people left Beacon Hills? For work? or a holiday?” Stiles inquired. There was no way someone could go their whole lives without knowing someone who had left town.

“Well, yeah. Some of them had gone out, but the people didn’t make any lasting connections. Just a drunken brawl or a one-night stand. No one that would miss them if they were gone.”

“but they knew people in beacon hills?”

“Yeah, but they were pretty weak relation, only frequent customers or friends from high school.”

“yeah,” Stiles snarked, “because friendships you make in high school are all pretty weak, right?”

Scott went red, he was going to say something but bit his tongue. Maybe he knew that he had every right to act this way. To be fair Stiles probably shouldn’t have said that, but he had been holding back this whole time a little comment never hurt anyone. 

“Anyway,” Stiles said trying to direct the conversation back on track, “what about these enchantments?”

“Yeah, one night, A guy, Alex Stevens, was attacked by one of them and ran into the animal clinic for cover.”

“Lucky him,” Stiles remarked, more of a joke to himself but Scott politely laughed anyway.

“Yeah,” He continued, “I was there at the time and I fought the werewolf. I was able to fight him and I tried to get him to back off, and then his eyes glowed,” Scott stopped as he tried to find the right words, “they glowed purple.”

Stiles was struggling to understand why Scott was having a hard time to explain, “that’s it?” he tried to push him along.

Scott looked back to Stiles with even more embarrassment (if that was possible), “Oh no,” the wolf faltered, “They were like flickering. It went purple than blue, then orange to yellow to red. It’s like they were trying to confuse me.”

“Did it work?”

“uhh, yeah,” he laughed, “the eyes think threw me off a bit. The guy saw an opening and he took me down.”

“I’m guessing you did he didn’t monologue to you then?”

Scott chuckled again, it was becoming forced now, Scott was trying too hard, “Nope, but we’ve seen different ones running around, they’re all coordinated. Jackson caught one, a female, he said that her eyes changed colour too. She said that ‘her and the others would win and there was nothing me or the pack could do about it’, classic taking over the territory stuff.”

“Is it just the eyes or was there something else?”

“Yeah, the one I fought ran so fast I lost her in the woods and Jackson said that the wolf had small claws but they were stronger and larger than any others, there were about this thick,” he explained, stretching his thumb and index finger. 

That was the same size as the claw marks on Tate’s body making these ‘enchanted werewolves’ linked to the case. Stiles chose not to disclose that information to Scott however, he wanted to keep some cards close to his chest. And if this werewolf that Jackson caught… Wait. Jackson?

“Did you say, Jackson?” Stiles asked, “isn’t he in London?”

“He’s here for a couple days for a-” he cut himself off and his face went from tomato red to ghostly pale. He was hiding something.

“For a what?” Stiles pushed. Why was he pushing? He knows he shouldn’t do that. It’s not his business and above all, he doesn’t care. 

“Just a reunion,” Scott said quickly, attempting to cover his tracks, but he forgot that he was dealing with an FBI agent who was raised by a police deputy and sheriff.

“Well, it wasn’t a school reunion because the invite said that was two months ago. These attacks started only a week ago which means that Jackson has to be here right now.” He deducted with anger slowly rising in his voice. ‘Stop just let it go’ his mind screamed.

Scott viably gulped, “It’s nothing Stiles.” you didn’t have to have super hearing to know that he was nervous, “Don’t worry about it.” 

‘he’s right’ he told himself, ‘just leave it at that’

“Tell me the truth Scott.”

‘NO’

“It was a pack reunion…”

Stiles went blank. A pack reunion, that he didn’t know anything about. Why would he know? They haven’t exactly been in touch lately. He didn’t even associate himself with them anymore. I’m sure they’ll have a great time without their old pack mate Stiles hanging around to put a damper on their moods. He was thinking that he could’ve reconnected with the pack. He thought Scott was trying to as well, how could he have been so stupid to believe that they would want someone like Stiles around. Not a werewolf or a hunter or a banshee, just the guy that was friendly with the Alpha. He was expecting it, but why did it still hurt? He shouldn’t have tried to pry it out from him. He’s a smartass but he’s a fucking dumbass.

“Right, of course.” Stiles said as he turned to get out of there as soon as possible, “that’s all I needed. Thanks”

“Stiles, wait.” Scott ran after him, “you can come if you want.”

Stiles let out a small huff, “if you wanted me there you would’ve sent me an invite.” 

Scott looked so guilty and pitiful, “Stiles…” He trailed off as he tried to piece the right words together. 

“Don’t worry, this investigation shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be out of your hair within the week”

“You’re leaving?” He asked as if to act disappointed.

Stiles turned to his old friend, “Were you expecting me to stay?” He spat.  
Stiles wasn’t sure how to feel: disgusted? Betray? He doesn’t deserve to feel like that, Stiles had no right to be invited. 

“I don’t know,” Scott responded timidly, “I thought maybe that you would want to catch up, get a drink or something?”

“Why would you want that?”

“Well, you’re here,” he answered, acting much more like a cowering beta then the legendary true alpha, “and a lot has changed, I thought I could show you around, talk.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Stiles finally snapped. Scotts general demeaning forgive and forgetful attitude was getting on his last nerve.

“Like what?” Scott asks innocently.

“Like nothing happened? Like you didn’t say the things you said or like you didn’t do the things you did. That you didn’t get every person in my life to block me out and drive me out town. Because you did do those things, Scott. My dad, Lydia, Derek all chose you. That’s not something that I can get over with a quick drink at the pub. And you know what, I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever be able to forgive you for.”

Scott’s eyes dived to the ground, guilt and tears following his gaze. “I’m sorry, Stiles. You didn’t deserve that.” he admitted, “but we did it to protect you-”

“-save it, I’ve heard enough of that shit from your dad. It doesn’t matter it happened and I’m not getting over it. Too little too late.” Stiles turned back and thundered to his car, slamming the door, leaving Scott to wallow in his staged regret. It sucked that his window was down that would’ve been a great exit, “I’ll let you know when it’s done. Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Stiles wait! I-”

Stiles didn’t give him a chance. He was in his car and driving off before his source could say another word.

Well, that was a lot worse than Stiles could’ve imagined. Just seeing him brought the memories back with it's plus one being a bucket load of pain. And they’re having a pack reunion too. It’s not like he was expecting some invite with confetti and sparkles, he would’ve hated that actually, but it still hurt to know they were getting along just fine without him.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to see Scott for the rest of this case, but that was wishful thinking. Scott was probably the best to bet with these magic wolves, but that won’t stop Stiles from going lone wolf (pun very much intended). If he could get this done quickly, he would be back at the Bureau within the week and this whole case would be a bad memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, you might have noticed that I change the 'eventual Derek/stiles' tag I've decided to go in a slightly different direction, they'll be Sterek references but it won't end up like that.
> 
> Sorry if that's what you were waiting for, it just wasn't fitting into the story anymore.
> 
> Hope you still enjoy.


	5. Emergency meeting

'What is wrong with me?'  
Scott mentally kicked himself as he watched his friend drive off, he literally couldn’t have said anything worse. But he was in shock! The whole time processing the fact he was here. Stiles. In Beacon Hills. It was like he had been pushed out of his body and had to watch that horrible conversation unfolds and then burn as his body babbled out all the worst possible things. 

He’d driven out his best friend… again! He should have run after him; he could explain everything. 

But Scott texted the pack first.

\--

Scott: EMERGENCY PACK MEETING

\--

Since the whole town knew about the pack, they didn’t feel like they had to hideout anymore. No more pretending or having to go to whatever cave Derek had found. Nowadays they would just go to whoever’s place was easiest, kind of like a book club. If it was an emergency, however, they’d go to their Alpha. 

Lydia was the first one to show up and was quick to ask Scott what was going wrong if he was okay. Scott assured that he was fine, and was amused at how Lydia had become such a mother hen. Maybe it was because she was now a mother with two kids that the pack never hear then end of. Her eldest, of two years, had even started to dress up as her mother. The wide frame glass, high messy bun and she even drew purple under her eyes for the bags her mother always held. It was adorable, yet the pack had enough of it by the hundredth picture of little Ariel and even littler Carly (Ethan still loved it, however).

The rest of the pack showed up soon after, Malia first, who was still recovering from the death of her father. They had become much closer and Malia was happy with their relationship. They would go shooting together (only bottles not anything alive) and she would visit as much as possible since she decided to stay in Beacon Hills. His death had hit him hard, but she’s turned all of her anger towards terminating whatever the hell this pack was. 

Kira was hot on her heels, storming through the door and taking her place next to Malia who was being comforted by Lydia. Kira had returned from the Skinwalkers very different from how she left. Her confidence had improved (to say the least) and while she still maintained some of her little quirks, but overall, she’s fiercer both in and out of battle. Scott had expected they’d get back together once she was back, but Kira had explained her disinterest of being in a relationship. And despite how cold the break up was Scott was strangely okay with it? 

Ethan and Jackson had arrived together, hand in hand. Ethan was eager to be able to stay longer with the pack, but Jackson was not happy. They were still very happy in London and he didn’t want Scott to drag him and his husband back into his Beacon Hills shit. 

“What’s this about, McCall?” Jackson asked in his classic ‘I’ll kill you if this isn’t an actual emergency’ kind of undertones. He even stood near the window so he could bolt if it wasn’t good (yes, he was fully prepared to cannonball through the window).

Scott looked between all of his pack mates realising how little there were. The new guys, Liam, Corey and Mason, all had the common sense to leave as soon as they could, not even bothering to show up to the reunion and it didn’t seem like they were coming back anytime soon. Scott didn’t even blame them, he maybe even envied them, but he couldn’t leave anytime soon… 

“Scott,” Kira cut through his thoughts.

The leader took a deep breath before ripping off the band-aid, “Stiles is here.”

The room went dead silent. 

“What did you say?” Kira cut through the tension once again.

Scott couldn’t even bring himself to respond, he only looked to the ground in shame as the pack came to terms with what he had said. 

“So, he’s here,” Lydia confirmed, “in the house?”

“No. No. He was here before, but we had a fight,” Scott explained.

Lydia was infuriated by this statement, “Stiles is back here for the first time ten years,” she stood up slowly, “and you scare him off again?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” He fought back, even though he knew she was right, “I wasn’t expecting him and I panicked and said all the wrong things.”

“Where is he now?” Lydia demanded; she was in full mother mode, looking for one of her long-lost children.

“I don’t know,” the Alpha admitted, “He just drove off.”

The banshee huffed and stormed to the opposite end of the room to the older werewolf.

“What was he even doing here?” Ethan asked

“He’s the agent put on to the case here,” Scott explained, “he came to ask questions about this enchanted pack.”

“What did you tell him?” Jackson inquired.

“Everything.” 

“Everything?” 

Scott turned his head towards Jackson. He meant the whole thing with why they ran him out.

“No.” He stated.

“We need to tell him,” Malia finally spoke, “we need to tell him everything.”

The whole pack silently agreed. 

“But we should call Derek first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
sorry I dropped the figurative ball for a long while there. I had exams and then I lost motivation for a while especially for this chapter which I was really struggling with. I'm going away for the holidays, but I'm trying to shift as much focus onto this as I can.  
Thanks for reading y'all


	6. Start of Something New

“This is a conflict of interest! I need to be taken off the case.”

After that whole thing with Scott, Stiles was frazzled (to say the least) and even though he promised Thompson, this was drawing the line. He was here to solve a case not to be swept back into the Pack drama. So as soon as he got back to his crappy motel, he called Thompson’s favourite agent and begged her to take the case.

“I can’t,” Meg said for about the seventh time, “Thompson gave you this case for a good reason just because you had one bad run-in with some quote-unquote ‘guy you used to know’ doesn’t mean you drop the case and run.”

Stiles sunk into his chair with feeble guilt. He hasn’t been big on the whole ‘sharing’ thing, so there was no way he was going to spout out is tragic backstory to all of his co-workers. That’s not to say that they weren’t lovely people, because they were. Meg always made an effort to talk to him, bring him coffee when she knows he’s worked overtime (she was actually the only person in the precinct who knew what his coffee order was) and even learned to pronounce his name right. He felt bad that he didn’t always speak the full truth to her. And even though he’d never admit it, it’s because he was still heartbroken.

“I can’t believe you’d even want to be taken off, Mr ‘I can do it myself’ Stilinski,” Stiles forgot that she’s also an agent and therefore has the power of deduction, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

“It just seems like something you’d be great at,” he lies, “there’s people and dead people and—”

“A lot of paperwork,” She completed, clearly annoyed, “I’m still drowning in the papers you created from your little chase through DC.”

“You’re doing that?” Stiles winced

“Thompson gave it to McCall, and McCall gave it to me.”

“Sorry,” Stiles sympathised, “I would’ve been a little less destructive if I knew you were the one doing it.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t change much. If I don’t finish it tonight I’ll have to push back my weekend plans with Carol,” Meg seethed, “again!”

Now Stiles felt really bad, “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” She consoled, “it’s supposed to be McCall’s anyways so I’ll toilet paper his office later.”

Stiles laughed. Meg and Stiles both had a grudge against their superior officer. Stiles’ reason was a bit more spiteful, but Meg enjoys pulling pranks on the whole office, it’s just McCall’s reactions that made him more fun.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” She apologised, she should have to but she did, “You don’t usually ask for much and it’s just—”

“No, no,” Stiles interrupted, “I understand, it’s not often you get to have a romantic getaway, and I know you’ve been planning this for a while. I’ll manage. Thank you, for not hanging up on me.”

Meg laughed, “that’s okay.”

There was just silence for a while. Stiles wasn’t sure what was going on Meg’s end but he was fighting off a mental breakdown while also making a list of people that might owe him a favour and was putting them against the list of people that weren’t scared of Thompson (the second list was painfully short).

He was beginning to think all hope was lost when suddenly heard his favourite and least favourite word.

“But,” she said, “maybe I can replace you on Monday,”

Stiles felt a weight lift off his chest, suddenly he could breathe again. “Thank you! Thank you, Meg,” Stiles would’ve hugged through the phone if he could, “you are a lifesaver.”

“On one condition,” she said, cutting Stiles’ celebration short.

Of course, there’s a catch, and while Stiles hates owing people, but it didn’t matter this time, he was desperate.

“Name it,” Stiles said plainly.

“We go out for drinks.”

Stiles goes quiet, not really sure if she heard he right, “Drinks?” he asks, “you don’t want my salary for the next ten years or something?”

“No thanks,” She laughs, “We’ve been working together for four years, and while I enjoy our banter, I think it’s high time we actually get to know each other. Plus, I’ve always wondered how you’d act outside of the office.”

Stiles was shocked. It was depressing, but he never thought that anyone would actually want to be friends with him. He hasn’t gotten any less annoying and sarcastic, he only talks to people if he needs something and there are fifty people he can name of the top of his head that would be better company than him. So why?

“So, what’s it gonna be Stiles?”

A small smile makes its way across Stiles’ face, “Drinks sound great.”

“Alright,” Meg responds, you can hear the pride in her voice, “I’ll be there Monday.”

“See you then,” Stiles replied quietly before hanging up and looking longingly at his phone.

Who would’ve thought someone as kind as Meg would want to hang out with someone like Stiles? The guy who appeared from nowhere. That class clown that everyone knew but didn’t know. Stiles deflated onto his bed, staring at the cracking ceiling of his room. Maybe he could trust again?

The sound of his ringtone burst loudly through his thoughts. He quickly leapt out of his bed and answered.

“Hello, this is Agent Stilinski speaking.”

“Stilinski, this is the Beacon Hill Sheriff Office,” the female officer informed, “your witness is in for questioning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought you could use some fluff in amongst all of this angst.
> 
> I'm really sorry that my update schedule is so disastrous, but I really appreciate all of your positive feedback it's been great to write this and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for the high school musical song title, I was feeling nostalgic.


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